


The Rhyme

by KittenSneeze



Category: IT (2017)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-04
Updated: 2017-10-04
Packaged: 2019-01-09 03:46:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12268221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittenSneeze/pseuds/KittenSneeze
Summary: Billy visits Georgie's grave once a year on the day of his death. This day was a little bit different.





	The Rhyme

**Author's Note:**

> THIS IS ANGSTY AS HELL - YOU'VE BEEN WARNED. Also, take it as you will, the title was inspired by Scratch21's song "The Rhyme", cause it fits.

_Amidst the mists and fiercest frosts_.

Billy sat on the front step of his house, the winter chill making him grow goosebumps and tint his face a deep shade of pink. The boy’s jacket was hung loosely around his shoulders, which looked quite silly since it was below freezing outside and he had nothing to protect himself against the harsh weather. He was simply sitting, tracing patterns into the frozen ground, a distant look in his eyes.

The front door creaked open and he didn’t look up, continuing to idly draw in the thin sheet of snow. Miss Denbrough peaked out from behind the door, shivering as the chill wafted its way inside. Her eyes were puffy and baggy, as if she had been crying for hours on end. Folding her arms in front of her chest, she remained silent as she warily watched her son.

“Are you still going?” She finally asked with a soft voice, leaning her weight onto the door-frame. Billy glanced up at her looking disoriented. He licked his chapped lips before replying.

“Yuh-Yeah…” he trailed off, lifting his hands away from the floor and settling them awkwardly in his lap. Her vision was focused on him. “Put on your gloves and jacket, dear.” His mother reminded him gently, her voice hoarse. “O-Okay.” He took his wool gloves out of his pocket, slipping them over his cold fingertips and then stood, shrugging on his jacket.

Billy turned to face his mom, expression still empty. She sighed, expression softening. “I know today is hard, Billy. Just try to be home before dinner.” He nodded, fiddling with the stitching on his gloves. She watched him for a moment before backing out of the doorway.

“I love you, be safe.”

“L-Luh-Love you too, M-Mom.”

_With barest wrists, and stoutest boasts._

Billy walked along the sidewalk, hands shoved into his pockets. The air hit his face harshly, like being cut by a frozen knife. His watery eyes were focused on the ground, carefully avoiding the side-shops and buildings he had spent much of his childhood inside. He couldn’t help the memories that came flooding back to him whenever he passed by- like the Aladdin theater, where he had taken Georgie on his birthday to see the latest cartoon, or the arcade where he had showed him how to play Pacman and Galaga - and on the occasion when he was given a little more money in his allowance, he’d take him to the ice cream stand on the street corner and get them both plain vanilla in a cone with chocolate sprinkles.

But he wasn’t in town to reminisce today.

Billy turned the corner and walked across the deserted streets, marching up to a grassy area that was fenced in by a rusty black gate. He ran his fingers along the lock, clearing off the snow that had settled before flipping up the latch. The snow had piled up in the dip just below the gate which made opening it a challenge, so he spent a minute or two thrusting his body weight onto the bars to get it through the snowbank.

After a minute of shoving, he grew too tired to push anymore and instead wormed his way through the crack he had opened for himself. His shoes crunched under the dead grass as he walked along the flat ground that was dotted with tombstones, names of lost ones engraved into the granite. He lifted his hands to his mouth to blow hot air into his hands, rubbing them together anxiously before spotting a withering oak tree near a small hill in the middle of the cemetery. Billy heaved a deep breath, the cold air burning his lungs and stinging his eyes with tears.

He walked over to where the oak’s branches hung over a smaller sized grave, its leaves creating an overhang as if shielding the tomb from the harsh outside world. It was the most protected spot in the entire cemetery. Billy had picked this spot for Georgie for that specific reason. Kneeling in front of the gravestone, he brokenly looked upon the name that was permanently etched into the stone.

_He thrusts his fists against the posts..._

A broken sob tore its way out of his throat, and he doubled over, punching the ground with balled up fists. If this had been a typical grave, he might have felt a bit of remorse for punching the ground where his brother was buried. But that was just it. He wasn’t buried here. All he had to remember him by was the yellow raincoat he was wearing on the day he walked out their front door and never came back.

He wiped at his nose that began to run, shivering as he tried to will his composure to come back. A heaving sigh escaped his lips, nerves coming back with a vengeance as they racked his whole body in shivers, but he managed to choke back his tears for just a moment.

“H-How’s it going, G-Georgie?” He finally croaked out, his lips trembling.

Billy adjusted his position so he was on his knees, and he leaned over to run his fingertips across Georgie’s name. His breath caught in his throat as his hands traced over the lettering of “Denbrough”, and once he reached the last letter he pulled his hand away.

_He still insists he sees the ghosts._

A hiccup escaped his lips as he screwed his eyes shut, the harsh sting of his dried up tear ducts causing the dull pain of a headache start forming. “We m-muh-miss you, Georgie. S-So much…”

He couldn't tell if he was stuttering because of his speech impediment or the cold air, but he couldn't care less. The sound of tires caught Billy’s attention, and he snapped his head up towards the supposedly empty street he had just crossed moments ago. There was a single car traveling along the mostly empty road.

His gaze followed the vehicle, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as to why anybody would be driving in this weather. Then his attention was locked on something else. A figure was standing on the corner, and although it was a bit hazy due to the snow, there was an unmistakably bright red color hovering just above the stranger’s head.

Billy's mouth ran dry as his heart dropped to his stomach.

He struggled to get his footing, hands now wildly shaking at his sides as he tried to stand as quickly as possible. The car passed by just as Billy glanced back at the corner, hoping to God that it was just a man with a bright red coat and his fears weren't true.

But right as the car finished clunking by, the figure was gone.

**Author's Note:**

> Constructive criticism, kudos, and comments are all greatly loved and welcomed <3  
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
